


It's My Party (I'll Cry If I Want To)

by MoonySideDown



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Gen, Injury Recovery, Wayne Manor, batfam, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 15:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonySideDown/pseuds/MoonySideDown
Summary: He caught a glimpse of Bruce on the other side of the ballroom, laughing and taking a photo with a pair of older women Tim didn't recognize, sipping wine and smiling. For a moment, Tim allowed himself to wonder what life would be like if the facade they all presented at these events was true. If Bruce was just a rich man who had adopted a few boys. If Damian was a regular kid and not a trained assassin. If Jason hadn't died and come back to life. If Dick wasn't Nightwing.For the briefest moment Tim almost envied the socialites around him. It must be nice, he thought, to not have your brother possibly dying in your basement.





	It's My Party (I'll Cry If I Want To)

In another life, Bruce Wayne might have been an actor. He certainly had the talent for it. If not for that he would never have been able to smile and make small talk with his guests tonight. His skill served him well every time someone shook his hand and asked cheerfully where his oldest was.

 

Bruce smiled winningly, and told them one by one that 'dick isn't feeling well tonight, he sends his regards'. They moved on to other topics, and he pretended, perfectly, that his oldest son wasn't down far below the house in the batcave, still unconscious, still barely stable. He didn't let anyone see the way he kept checking his phone in his suit jacket, waiting for a text that he was awake, or at least doing better.

 

Jason was down there with him, since he was rarely missed at Wayne galas. He would let them know if anything changed about Dick's condition. Bruce trusted him. But it was a familiarly awful feeling, being away from one of his kids while they were hurt.

 

In a rare moment of quiet, when he didn't have investors or politicians or local celebrities gathered around, he grabbed a drink from a table of refreshments and gulped it down more quickly than was likely advisible. It didn't matter, it wasn't as if seeing a rich man drinking like a fish at a party would set off alarm bells in anyone's mind.

 

However, it was a slight crack in his veneer, and one person at the party noticed.

 

He had hardly put the empty glass down on a passing waiter's tray when he became aware of a small someone right at his side.

 

Cass didn't have to say anything when he turned to acknowledge her. She just raised her eyebrows, arms crossed.

 

“Having a good time, Cass?” He asked casually in his upbeat 'gala' voice, like he didn't know she was checking in on him.

 

“You okay?” She asked. Her voice was soft, but he never had trouble hearing her.

 

“Of course.”

 

She stared at him hard for a few long seconds, but didn't press the issue. She tugged his jacket out so she could grab his phone from the inside pocket, and checked it quickly for messages before switching to the camera app.

 

He obeyed her little tug on his shirt to get him to lean down a little to her level, and smiled for the selfie she snapped of the two of them.

 

Quickly she sent the photo to Stephanie, who had been too busy with her classes to come, and then tucked his phone back in his pocket.

 

“Post that later.” She advised, referring to the social media accounts he normally passed off to one of his kids to maintain under his name. It had been a while since 'Bruce Wayne' had posted anything and it might look suspicious if he didn't have a few photos from tonight. He'd totally forgotten about it, to be quite honest.

 

“Jason is there, it's okay.” She added with a gentle smile, looping her arm around his and sticking close.

 

He let out a breath and let her lean against him. And just like that their moment was over, as a group of socialites hurried over in a flurry of cheery laughter and flutes of champagne.

 

\- - -

 

Jason shifted in his chair for what must have been the thousandth time in the past half hour. He gave up on his book, setting it on the ground beside the chair with a sigh.

 

In front of him, Dick was laid out on one of the plain little beds in the medical area of the cave. He was still too pale, his breath still just a little too fast and shallow. Bruises stood out harshly on his too-pale skin while he slept fitfully, occasionally letting out little murmurs or whimpers.

 

Upstairs the annual Wayne Gala to benefit Gotham's hospitals and clinics was in full swing. The irony didn't escape him, and he hated it a little.

 

His phone buzzed and he glanced at it on his lap. It was a text from Tim.

 

“ _How's it going?_ ”

 

Jason rubbed his tired eyes and responded. “ _He's grown wings, we're heading to narnia. I told you I'd let you guys know if there was any change._ ”

 

“ _Sorry. Hard to wait._ ”

 

It was hard not to worry about Dick's pain level. Alfred had assured Jason that he'd given Dick as much pain relief as he felt was safe at this stage, but he itched to give him more, if only so he'd stop whimpering like that when he moved in his sleep.

 

He got out of his chair, pacing in a little circle to stretch his tired muscles. After a few circles he looked back at Dick, checked his monitors, not sure if he was hoping for a change or not. No change was better than him getting worse, wasn't it? But no change was worse than improvement.

 

It had been hours since he'd hauled his brother back to the cave, broken and bloody. Nightwing had followed a couple of petty thieves straight into the middle of a fight between two local gangs, one that Red Hood had just happened to be keeping an eye on himself. Even with Jason's support the ensuing fight had been brutal, with too many people and too many weapons that they just _shouldn't have been able to get_ , and Jason hated that Dick had gotten the worst of it, even if he _had_ been the one to make the mistake.

 

Stupid mistakes. That was what got you killed. But Dick didn't deserve to die like this.

 

Jason had sustained his own injuries, of course. A gunshot to the shoulder that was bandaged and aching. A couple stab wounds, plenty of cuts and bruises.

 

He hadn't seen what had happened to Dick exactly. All he knew was that he'd turned and found him on the ground with a few bullet wounds, blood everywhere, hardly able to speak, and _still trying to get back up_. He'd gone quiet while Jason was hauling him out of there, and lost consciousness the moment they were out. Jason had tried to stem the bleeding but he was just bleeding so much from so many places. Eventually he'd just grabbed him and made for the cave as fast as he could, shouting at him to stay alive until they got back, because he would _never_ forgive him if he died on his motorcycle.

 

The silence of the cave was a stark contrast to the chaos of their arrival in the cave. The only sound now that Dick had settled down again was the gentle whirr of the computer and the occasional distant squeak of a bat high up in the cave's ceiling. Jason stared at the blood dried on his pants, sighed, and sat back down in his chair beside Dick's bed.

 

\- - -

 

Tim sighed and pushed his phone back into his pocket, glancing around the ballroom. Jason hadn't responded to his last message, and he chose to chalk it up to him just not answering instead of something terrible happening with Dick.

 

He'd never seen Jason look as scared as he had coming home the night before with Dick bleeding out in his arms, and that had scared him too. He was still scared. He was pretty sure they all were. It had taken so long to get Dick stable, to get him to stop dying. He hadn't woken all day, and still hadn't by the time they'd all had to get dressed and ready for the gala.

 

Damian was at Tim's elbow, frowning at the ballroom from the quiet corner they'd found.

 

It was Tim's job to keep his brother from disappearing from the event. Babysitting was not normally his favorite thing but at least it gave him something, anything, to focus on. He nudged the smaller boy with his elbow.

 

“Try not to look so murderous.”

 

Damian snorted, but his face softened from a scowl to a sort of resting bitterness. Good enough.

 

“I don't understand why all of us have to be present. It's not like any of these people really notice anything.”

 

Tim shrugged, sipped his sparkling apple juice while attempting to appear like an adult. “I know. But we wouldn't be doing any good hanging around with Jason. We'd probably just annoy him.”

 

“Speak for yourself.” Damian scoffed, crossing his arms.

 

Tim rolled his eyes.

 

He caught a glimpse of Bruce on the other side of the ballroom, laughing and taking a photo with a pair of older women Tim didn't recognize, sipping wine and smiling. For a moment, Tim allowed himself to wonder what life would be like if the facade they all presented at these events was true. If Bruce was just a rich man who had adopted a few boys. If Damian was a regular kid and not a trained assassin. If Jason hadn't died and come back to life. If Dick wasn't Nightwing.

 

For the briefest moment Tim almost envied the socialites around him. It must be nice, he thought, to not have your brother possibly dying in your basement.

 

\- - -

 

Jason had had the thought to put on some music, to keep away the silence. All that had come up on shuffle had been slow, melancholy songs, so he'd put on one of his more intense rock playlists. Dick had stirred and murmured petulantly and Jason had immediately shut it off, concerned it was disturbing him. And so they were back to silence.

 

Cass had been sending a steady stream of photos and videos from Bruce's phone. It was a nice distraction, since he couldn't concentrate on his book or his music or any of the shows he would normally watch on Bruce's netflix account.

 

He was watching a short video she'd sent of Damian getting fawned over by a rich old lady in a massive feather boa, smiling while the little brat's cheeks were pinched and Tim barely contained his own smile behind his younger brother, when Dick stirred again.

 

He didn't look up, assuming it was another of his fitful motions.

 

“You look horrible.”

 

Jason jumped slightly, and looked up at the bed.

 

Dick's eyes were open just a little, a faint smile curving his lips.

 

He set his phone aside and scooted his chair closer to the bed. “Speak for yourself, Dickiebird. You've been out a whole day. How do you feel?”

 

“Like death.”

 

Jason's heart constricted, not only at his words but at the faint, rough sound of his voice. Like it was too much effort just to speak. “Hey, only I'm allowed to say that, remember?”

 

“Where is everyone?” Dick turned his head limply to look around the immediate area, squinting like he was still a little confused about where he was.

 

“At that big gala thing for the hospital.” He turned to grab his phone again, to let the others know he was awake. “I'll show you the pictures in a second.”

 

Dick groaned, and for a second Jason panicked. “I wanted to go to that.”

 

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “Then don't get beat up and shot, you loser.”

 

\- - -

 

Cass reappeared at Bruce's side seemingly from nowhere, both startling and not at all surprising him. She urgently handed him his phone, which he hadn't realized she'd had.

 

There was a message, finally, from Jason. A photo. A selfie of himself smiling while leaning close to Dick, who was smiling tiredly.

 

“ _We <3 consciousness_.”

 

Bruce smiled his first genuine smile of the night.

 

“Alfred is going to check on him.” She informed him with a bright smile of her own.

 

“Good. Maybe this party will wrap up early and we can all go check on him.”

 

Cass beamed, making him chuckle.

 

Bruce Wayne was an excellent actor, but for just a moment, he finally didn't have to be.

 


End file.
